


Until You Choke On It

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Oral, Power Dynamics, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, that scene 2.0
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 07:02:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20903588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: On Your Knees 2.0, or how to properly serve your king





	Until You Choke On It

**Author's Note:**

> I know the poll said 'soft virrow' but what if i rewrote the exact same scene we're all horny for...again.

* * *

* * *

His word’s kept echoing in Viren’s mind- the hard dip of his brow, the lines of his face sharpened, turned downward. His fury, briefly uncontained.

_On your knees. _

Viren had gone to them, knelt before his king.

Now, he went willingly again- curved his body towards Harrow’s, clutched his legs as his King pulled his head back, hand fisted too tightly in Viren’s hair. Opened his jaw with firm fingers, pressed the pad of his thumb down on Viren’s tongue.

_Submission._ _Servitude. _

Viren choked, trying to breath through his nose, and let Harrow push himself into his mouth. Licked the bottom of his shaft, even as his throat spasmed in a supressed cough. Knelt willingly before his King, and relaxed his jaw, face hot under Harrow’s stony gaze, until he was pulled down to the root, his nose pressed into Harrow’s public hair.

Moaned, sloppily, around his mouthful.

_You are a servant._

He was a _good_ servant, and he would please his King.

He was hard, had been since Harrow had put him on his knees, but this wasn’t about him; Viren shifted his knees, widening his stance to give his erection a little more room, but in the privacy of is own mind it was because he _wanted_ Harrow to notice.

Notice how strained Viren’s pants were to contain him, how uncomfortably they must pinch. But Viren did not stroke himself, and he knew when Harrow noticed by the upturned lip; the boot pressing carefully against his trapped cock.

Wordless, saliva dripping into his beard, he pressed into Harrow’s boot as he groaned around his mouthful. Couldn’t breath with Harrow so far in his throat; the way his heart raced as his lungs burned, held almost cruelly to the root of Harrow’s cock.

But Viren did not pull against the harsh hands in his hair, didn’t fight even as it became almost too much.

_I am a servant. I will serve. _

The floor was hard, but the brief flash of pain was mostly drowned out by his first deep breath, as Harrow pulled him off his cock and tossed Viren to the ground. He landed on his back, catching himself on one elbow; it hurt something fierce, but again, the pain was washed away by _much_ stronger sensations.

Harrow’s boot, gently massaging his erection. Nudging to the line of buttons, and Viren lifted his hands- left one almost numb, tingling as his elbow seemed to vibrate- and Harrow shook his head once.

_Obedience. Servitude. _

Viren pressed his hands to the floor.

He could never be truly afraid of Harrow. The sight of the penknife did cause him pause, but Harrow knelt, joining Viren on the cold floor. He was rigid grace, smoldering fury twining with lust, and Viren would not deny him anything. 

The knife sliced his clothing, cutting a gash in the taunt fabric of his pants; Harrow’s capable hands yanked the hole, ripping until it was a maw, dark fabric destroyed to expose Viren’s pale flesh.

No words. They weren’t necessary.

When Harrow put fingers against his lips, Viren opened for them; curled his tongue around them like he had not been able to do for Harrow’s cock. Moaned at the treatment, the rough thrusts of Harrow’s fingers into his mouth; they both knew that if Viren didn’t want this, balked at any point, it would stop. Fizzle out. More wordless looks, green fire eyes and firm hands.

He let Harrow shove his legs apart, held his own knees when they were pushed to his chest. His fingers were thick, sword calloused, and blunt nailed- they pushed inside Viren, slicking his channel. Brief, brisk. Only because Harrow might do this in anger, but he was never so cruel- his touch was firm, one finger turning to two, and the stretch burned but didn’t hurt. Not when he rubbed inside him just right, and his King looked down at Viren, pliant and obedient, and the anger dimmed a little.

It was barely a pause, then Harrow was there, breathing his air, his cock stretching Viren so wide; his King watching, calculated, as he sank into Viren. No place to hide, no place to look but Harrow’s face.

_Yours. Your servant._

Faces speaking volumes, in the not-language of people who had known each other far too long; Viren couldn’t look away, brow crinkled with pleasure, hot faced, sweating in his layers.

It was too much, of course. They were always_ too much_. He came with a breathless gasp, mouthing Harrow’s name, sore and _used_, and the perfect servant.

Harrow fucked him through it, until he couldn’t hold his gaze, and then his King free a hand to grip his chin, keep Viren’s eyes on him. The feel of him inside, the frantic pace, the intensity in Harrow’s eyes.

“You’re _my_ servant.”


End file.
